


the tune without the words

by madamebadger



Series: the thing with feathers [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Hope, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 11:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3527852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamebadger/pseuds/madamebadger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are a matched pair, meant to be apart, fated to be together. Where there is hope, there might be comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the tune without the words

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt, "Quidnunc - One who always has to know what is going on."

By long tradition, the Left Hand and Right Hand of the Divine did not work much together.

This was theoretically for practical reasons—their skills and spheres of influence were very different by design; it was a rare task that would require the particular attention of both. But it was also, as Cassandra well knew, for political reasons. The Hands spoke with the authority of the Divine in their own separate arenas, and did so with more reach than the Divine could manage from the Grand Cathedral; that was their entire purpose. In division their power was constrained, but together they could potentially usurp the Divine entirely—and possibly do so without her being any the wiser. Safer, then, to keep them separate.

This was something that Cassandra accepted as natural, even inevitable, until Leliana.

* * *

Divine Beatrix's Left Hand, at the time Cassandra was named Right Hand, had been with her for decades: an older woman, grand and largely silent, who wove the subtle machinations of the Chantry like a weaver at her loom. She took Cassandra in hand immediately after her investment to teach her what would be expected of her in such a public and unique role, but after that they interacted seldom, and almost exclusively via the mediation of the Divine herself. In truth, Divine Beatrix required little of Cassandra, and much of that ceremonial. (She rode in more parades than she could count, and considered it a mark of Andraste's mercy that at least the nature of her position was such that she could wear armor on parade, albeit armor of such frivolous finery that it would be of little use in the field.) The rest of the time, she released Cassandra back to the Seekers. In the Divine's last years, when she was most steeply in her decline, Cassandra spent so much time with the Seekers that it was easy to forget entirely that she technically had another role whose importance usurped it, or that she had a counterpart at all. (The Left Hand did not traditionally even ride in the parades.) And indeed, three years before Beatrix's death, the Left Hand resigned her post due to her advancing age. The post remained open.

When Divine Justinia was named, Cassandra expected to resign her post—as much to shed the useless round of duties as to permit her to name her own Right Hand. She was surprised to be asked to remain.

She was more surprised by Leliana.

* * *

It was unlikely, Cassandra thought, that the courier mission to Val Foret required either one of the Hands, let alone both. Therefore there must have been some ulterior reason—especially as they rode alone. She was not especially frightened by this (she could hold her own against bandits without trouble, and by the confident way Leliana handled her knives and her quiver Cassandra intuited that Leliana would not need much guarding), but it was unusual. The Right Hand traveled with a small entourage in deference to the dignity of the position; the Left Hand rarely traveled at all, sending agents in her stead in most cases. 

The exact nature of the ulterior reason came to light almost as soon as they had left Val Royeaux's outskirts. It was, Cassandra had to admit, a beautiful day for a ride: early autumn, the air crisp but not cold, the trees turning red and gold against the blue sky. She was enjoying the open air, the easy gait of her horse, the quiet—the various duties and ceremonies of a new Divine's ascension had kept her within the walls of Val Royeaux and most often indoors for several weeks—when Leliana said, "So. Tell me about yourself."

Cassandra slanted a look sideways at her. (She had been startled by Leliana's appearance the first time they had met: the prior Left Hand was a woman grand and grave with the dignity of her station, but unassuming, which Cassandra had figured befit someone who worked so much behind the scenes. Leliana was anything but unassuming, with her polished-copper hair and her unusual blue eyes that shaded almost to lavender in the shadows. Even in the murky dimness of the Chantry, robed and often cowled, she caught the eye; here in the sunlight she stood out like a banner.) After a moment, she said, "I should think you already know all there is to know about me, if you know your job."

Leliana's smile widened a fraction. "Is that a challenge, Seeker Pentaghast?"

"No. An observation. You have all the resources of the previous Left Hand, and my life thus far is an open book. There is not much more to be said. Besides, I am not overly fond of casual curiosity; it is more important to know what is pertinent to you and not be distracted by the rest."

"Ah, but this will be a long and dull ride without some conversation. Besides, I feel I should get to know you; we are to work closely together."

That made Cassandra pause. Leliana's expression was placid, in the way that even after the few short weeks they had known each other she knew meant nothing at all; Leliana could hide her thoughts as skillfully as any courtier. It was a necessary skill for the Left Hand, but Cassandra didn't have to _like_ it. "Are we?" she asked.

"Aren't we?"

"Not... traditionally, not as I was taught."

"Mm. Well, Divine Justinia wishes us to work more closely together than is perhaps traditional."

"I... see." The thought unnerved Cassandra, though she could not have explained precisely why. "Well. Then what do you want to know? I won't pretend that you do not know at least the outline of my life, but I will answer if you want to ask. As long as it is not about how I became Hero of Orlais, because Maker, I am never telling that story again if my life depends on it."

"Fair enough." Leliana's expression turned thoughtful. "As I understand it, you have claim to a title and at least some holdings in Nevarra, and yet you took on the mantle of an order that borders on the ascetic at a young age. Why?"

Cassandra couldn't stop the sigh that gusted out of her. "This question. The simple answer is that I did not enjoy the life I was born to, nor was I good at it. —In fact, if we are to work together, you should know that I will be very poor assistance in any of the tasks of the Left Hand. I am very bad at politesse and even worse at subterfuge. I am sure you have heard."

"I might possibly have heard a thing like that. I am told you broke a young man's arm for paying court to you."

"That is not—" Cassandra sad, and stopped. "Well. It is mostly not true. His arm _was_ broken at the end, and I _was_ the one who pushed him off the balcony, but there were circumstances."

Leliana settled back into her saddle with a satisfied expression on her face, and Cassandra realized suddenly how skillfully she had been snared. "Do tell," Leliana said.

For a moment, Cassandra considered refusing to elucidate on principle. But if Leliana was correct—and Cassandra had no reason to think she wasn't; she clearly was much more the Divine's confidante than Cassandra was—they would have to work together, and there was no point antagonizing her deliberately. Besides... there was a part of her that wanted to set the record straight on this story, which she knew was still mentioned in Nevarran circles.

"To begin with," she said, "he was not paying court to _me_. No one in their right mind would have paid court to me as I was then and whatever else might have been said of him, I do not think he was mad."

"As you were then?"

"Awkward, surly, difficult, plain-spoken," Cassandra said, and then, "Not so much different than now, only clumsier and with more pimples." That surprised a laugh out of Leliana. "No, he was paying court to my title first, my holdings second—my family lost its money and most of its property after the coup attempt, but there were certain inalienable pieces of land that I would still inherit upon my majority—and _me_ a distant third, if at all. At any rate, my uncle would not stop attempting to arrange chances for me to speak to the... gentleman... privately, but I managed to duck him until almost the end of the visit...."

* * *

"It is a pleasure to meet you at last," Lady Montilyet said, bestowing a dazzling smile on Cassandra that managed at once to be polished and polite and still gave the impression of genuine warmth. Cassandra, who had no skill whatsoever with such things, was impressed despite herself: no wonder Leliana seemed convinced that Lady Montilyet could convince anyone of anything, given enough time and paper. "Leliana speaks highly of you."

"Does she?"

Lady Montilyet's mouth wobbled as if she was repressing a smile. "This surprises you?"

"I honestly didn't expect her to speak of me at all," Cassandra admitted, and Lady Montilyet laughed and then inclined her head, inviting Cassandra to walk with her. They fell into step, Cassandra's boots loud on the flagstones of the Haven chantry, Lady Montilyet's quieter. 

"Of course. You must know each other quite well by now, as long as you have worked together."

Cassandra wasn't quite sure how to say that almost no one seemed to quite _know_ Leliana, not as Lady Montilyet meant the word. Exactly how Lady Montilyet herself had managed to slip past Leliana's armor-bright and armor-hard facade, Cassandra didn't know, but it was nearly miraculous. "I suppose," she said. "At any rate, she spoke most highly of you as well."

Lady Montilyet smiled. "I shall do my best to live up to expectations," she said, and then pushed open the door to her makeshift study. 

Cassandra wasn't remotely surprised when a bit of shadow detached itself from the wall and resolved into Leliana, hooded and cloaked. She had often gone cowled before the Conclave, but now it seemed that Cassandra never saw her except thus, shadowed, shadowy, as dark as the smudges beneath her eyes. 

And she had often been ruthless before, but now....

(Had she grieved? Had she allowed herself to grieve? Cassandra could hardly fault her for privacy in her mourning—she herself had waited until she could be alone to weep, and she had not known Justinia nearly as well, nearly as intimately. But she had a fluttering fear that Leliana had not permitted herself that release _at all_. And there was no way to ask.)

"What do you think?" Leliana asked, lifting her chin toward the closed door of Lady Montilyet's study.

"I think she could talk a dog down off a meat-merchant's cart," Cassandra said.

Leliana laughed. "A vivid metaphor if perhaps not an elegant one."

Cassandra smiled, and then let the smile slip from her face. "Leliana," she said, and then paused, searching for words. Words, words, words always slipped away from her as they clearly did not for Lady Montilyet, or Varric, or even for that matter Leliana. "Are you... are you all right?"

Leliana lifted her head enough that the candlelight finally slipped inside her hood to illuminate her face. Her eyes were bleak. "What do you think?" she asked, quietly.

She was possessed of the sudden mad desire to reach out, for—what? A hand patting Leliana uselessly on the shoulder? Some awkward embrace? "If there is anything I can do—"

"There is nothing anyone can do," Leliana said, and her head tipped down until her entire face vanished again into shade. "Except go on. Excuse me."

Cassandra watched her go, the impulse to reach out so strong that her hand twitched at her side. She curled it into a fist to keep it still.

* * *

"Josephine is delighted," Cassandra said, coming up the stairs. The rookery was quiet at this time of night, deserted except for Leliana and her birds, and even the birds were asleep. She could see them, countless shadowy shapes with heads under wings, although she could not yet see Leliana. "But she will not tell me why. I have the impression that it has to do with—oh." She came far enough around the curve of the atrium to finally see Leliana, who was kneeling at prayers before the little shrine to Andraste. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't have interrupted."

"It is all right," Leliana said, rising smoothly to her feet. "I had finished. Josephine—?"

"Is very happy about something to do with you, but she wouldn't tell me what. She said I would have to ask you myself."

"And you did," Leliana said, and laughed, low. "What happened to the woman on horseback who extolled the virtues of not being too curious?" Cassandra folded her arms, and Leliana laughed and went on. "Am I rubbing off on you, Seeker Pentaghast?"

Cassandra shifted. "We have worked together nearly seven years, now. I should think it strange if we had not influenced one another." Leliana smiled, faint and mysterious. "Are you going to tell me or not?" Cassandra finally asked, exasperated.

"I had an opportunity to... kill someone who was a potential threat. Not in the heat of battle but in cold blood. You know I will do that, if I consider it necessary." Cassandra nodded. It had always unsettled her; she could not tell if she was a hypocrite or not—she would and had killed. But not as Leliana did, and would. "But this time...." Leliana lowered her head, looking down at her hands. "I did not do it. I am not sure I could even tell you why, except that it seemed... not right."

"I see," Cassandra said. "I... must admit that it pleases me to hear that too. No wonder Josephine made a point to tell me."

Leliana reached up to push back her hood. With the candle-lit shrine of Andraste behind her, her hair glowed, bright as dawn, but her eyes were still in shadow, an evening-dark blue. "Yes," she said, softly. "No wonder."

Cassandra had the vertiginous sense that she was missing something important. "Leliana," she said, and hesitated, and then plunged on: "I feel I should apologize to you. You were grieving, after Justinia's death, and I should have—"

"So were you."

"Not as you were," Cassandra said, finally, putting it into words, the difference between them for all that they had been meant to be a matched set. "I mourned her as a beloved mentor and spiritual guide and friend, but you—" She broke off, hesitated, stumbled onward. "—you lost more than that. And I think you never had time to—to come to terms with it before you had to move on. I should have seen that."

"And instead of dealing with it, I allowed it to eat me from the inside out, make me a monster."

"I didn't say that," Cassandra said, immediately. "Nor did I mean that."

"No," Leliana said, "but I did." Her eyes squeezed shut, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, and instinct made Cassandra lunge forward to catch her elbow and then slide an arm around her back to hold her up. Leliana's sobs against her shoulder were so quiet that she wasn't sure if she would have known them as such except by the shaking under her hand.

She steered Leliana over to a bench before her shaky legs gave out and held her, a hand curved around the back of her neck as she wept into Cassandra's shoulder. She didn't know how long it lasted, in the silence and darkness of the rookery at night, except that it was nearly a year of grief—nearly a year of grief coming unwound all at once, like the spring of Varric's crossbow, except that here there could be no target for the violence as it snapped, only recoil back onto itself.

After a while, after the shaking subsided and Cassandra had felt no new hot tears soak into her shoulder for some time, Leliana said, "I am afraid."

"I think we all are."

"No—not like that. I am afraid of myself. I—my entire adult life there has been someone to aim me. I killed for Marjolaine because I loved her, and then I killed for Dorothea—" and Cassandra thought, slowly, that it was the only time she had ever heard Leliana call the Divine 'Dorothea'—"because it was right, but also because I loved her. And now. Will I just kill, for whoever I love next? Or will I just kill because it is what I am good at, and who I am? Am I that much of a—a monster?"

"No," Cassandra said.

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Because you didn't today," Cassandra said, and then, more softly, her fingers slipping over Leliana's smooth, smooth hair, "and because I know you."

Leliana shook her head.

"No," Cassandra said. "I may not be a politician but I am a Seeker of Truth and I know how to see to the heart of the matter. That is what I was trained to do. And you are not as good a liar as you think you are."

Leliana gave a watery laugh. "I'm a pretty good liar."

Cassandra pulled back a little. Here, at this angle, the candlelight fell not on Leliana's hair but on her face, on her eyes, bright blue as morning. "The Left Hand and the Right Hand were never meant to work so closely together," she said, slowly. "We were never supposed to know each other. But we did, at Justinia's behest, because she saw a different..." she struggled for the words "...a different world than any of the rest of us could. You have made a point of knowing me more than made me comfortable. So it's only fair that I know you. And you are not a monster. You are... my opposite and my match."

She didn't realize how the words would sound until they were spoken, and until the realization hit home—sounding strong as a bell in her gut—she didn't know that she meant it. But she did know that her heart leapt at Leliana's smile through her tears, and she knew that it was the sweetest inevitability that brought their lips together, the kiss salty with tears and sweet with Leliana, and she let herself go into it.

And then drew back, breath tight. "Maker," she said. "I should be ashamed. Taking advantage of you when you are—"

"Do you have any idea how long I have wished you to do this?" Leliana said, and then she laughed again, Nightingale-sweet and less tear-filled this time. "No, of course you do not, because you are _thick_ when it comes to yourself. You are beautiful and honorable and brave and strong and _completely dense._ "

"I am not," Cassandra said, feeling miffed. "And we should talk—"

"We will talk," Leliana said, "later." She curved her arms around Cassandra, pressed her forehead to Cassandra's throat. "For now, please, just stay with me."

"I can do that," Cassandra said.

* * *

The party was still in full swing when they left, but Cassandra could still hear the sound of it far below. The rookery was dark and silent, though, dark and silent and private, and curled against Leliana she could think of no better place to be. A strong grip, a soft touch, matching.

In the silence, the sound of their lips parting seemed strangely loud, and Cassandra couldn't help lifting her head.

"There's no one here," Leliana whispered into the darkness. Her hand, which had found its way under Cassandra's tunic, stroked the dip at the bottom of her ribcage and made her shiver. "Except Baron Plucky, and he's not going to tell anyone."

"I'm not sure I trust Baron Plucky," Cassandra said against Leliana's collarbone, and was rewarded with a laugh.

"Then let's give him something really good to report on," Leliana said, pulling her up for another kiss. The kiss was slow but her mouth was a quick and as hot as her knives; Cassandra shuddered, heat running down her spine at the same time Leliana's hand ran up it. She tipped them both back onto the settee, Leliana under her, stroking her hair.

When they broke again for breath, Leliana said, "There is one story you never did tell me."

"Maker," Cassandra said, knowing exactly what to expect.

"I have heard so many versions of how you saved Divine Beatrix."

"No," Cassandra said, "I am not—"

"In fact, when I was last in Val Royeaux, I heard a variant in which you slew five dragons on your own."

Cassandra sighed and lay her head on Leliana's shoulder. "You are goading me, now."

"I simply want to know the truth," Leliana said, fire and laughter, morning light in her eyes.

Cassandra was silent a while. She felt Leliana kiss her throat, softly, and laugh, just as softly. _I love you_ , she thought. What she said was, "It has been much exaggerated, but it began with blood mages, as so many things seem to begin...."

**Author's Note:**

> The quote is from Emily Dickinson:
>
>> “Hope” is the thing with feathers -  
> That perches in the soul -  
> And sings the tune without the words -  
> And never stops - at all -
>> 
>> And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -  
> And sore must be the storm -  
> That could abash the little Bird  
> That kept so many warm -
>> 
>> I’ve heard it in the chillest land -  
> And on the strangest Sea -  
> Yet - never - in Extremity,  
> It asked a crumb - of me.


End file.
